for curiously shaped white slabs shining in the moonlight. Her head ached. Every breath was like the stab of a needle in her rib. Dede’s voice came from somewhere.
“Thought I’d save everyone the extra trip,” he said, huffing and setting her down. “Kill you here.”
She realized she was in a cemetery. And Ded6 held her Beretta.
“Cimetiere de Belleville,” he said. “Not many famous people buried here, and a little out of the way, but you’ll have a nice view.”
She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of whimpering, but her head felt ready to explode with pain.
“Dede, your contract’s over,” she said, her voice not much above a whisper. “Forget this.”
“Maybe it’s my
In the slants of moonlight she saw Dede’s hands find the bald soccer-ball key chain in his pocket. He fingered it, worrying it nonstop through his fingers.
“Please listen, Dede. Kaseem’s finished,” she said.
“Alors, my work is my life. There’s a pride and satisfaction in it. Eh, I like doing an even better job than my employer asked for. I make it personal. Kids today … just don’t have it.”
Her hands shook, but she could hardly move them. He’d tied them up. How could she get away? She felt the kabobs jabbing her somewhere above her elbow. But couldn’t reach them.
“After you screwed up the car bomb,” Dede clucked his mouth, shaking his head, “I had to do a lot of work. But when you stole the pearl lighter and embarrassed me in front of my
Her mind grew clearer. The pain had receeded so she could think. She felt a metal cross behind her. She started sawing the rope that tied her wrists.
“What about the other Lake Biwa pearls?” she said, remenv bering there’d been four of
“My collection has grown,” he said. “I have them all.” Dede slipped the key chain back in his pocket and pointed the Beretta at her.
Behind the dark cemetery wall two tall water towers loomed, standing outlined against the yellow glow of Belleville. In the moonlight she saw piles of dirt and pipe holes in the lot under the towers. Muffled voices came from a nearby gravestone.
She started screaming but her voice came out only a low croak.
Dede stuck his sleeve in her mouth to shut her up. She bit as hard as she could. He yelped. And she bit harder.
He tried to shake her off, swatting her head against the marble. She wouldn’t let go. Blood filmed one of her eyes, but she hung on like a pit bull until her hands came free. Then she shoved him over the wire cross, struggling to her feet.
What sounded like a whistle came from the wall.
Aimee started running, dodging the gravestones.
Her head throbbed, but she could run. She skidded through an abandoned gate in the wall. Her labored breaths stung sharply, but she made herself gulp air, her mind clearer the more she did so. She made it halfway across the gravel lot between the water towers before Dede caught her ankles. Her body slapped the ground. She came face-to-face with a hole, her neck stinging.
“Look what you’ve done!” Dede hissed, pointing at his ripped jacket.
She’d almost gotten away!
“Kaseem used you,” she said. “Like he uses everyone.”
Dede marched her to the nearest water tower, six or seven stories high. The tower loomed robotlike, with spindly legs webbed by ladders and pipe.
“Climb!”
The Beretta felt cold against her temple.
Aimee looked up, her hands shaking on the side of the ladder.
“But I’m afraid of heights.”
“Too bad,” Dede said. His gold chains glinted in the moonlight, his perspiring face glistening with sweat. “I need target practice.”
He was going to pick her off like a fly.
“Look, Dede—”
“This is taking too long, I’ve got other jobs.” He cocked the trigger, shoved her toward the ladder. “Move.”
She took several steps, faltered. Her greasy hand slipped and she grabbed the railing. Her leather-soled boots slid down the steps.
The heavy skewers rained from her sleeve, tinkling down the metal steps.
Gone.
Her heart sank as her last hope rained over the gravel.
“What’s that?” Dede grunted, leaning forward and grabbing them. He laughed, short and barklike. “Kabobs? You belong on these.”
“No, you do!” She turned quickly, not caring anymore what he’d do.
But she spoke to the air. She’d knocked into Dede. His finger pulled the Beretta. Shots drilled into the concrete water tower supports. She ducked as he spun and staggered. In his other hand he held the skewers. He tripped into a hole. She saw him land with a loud
A skewer rammed through his temple.
He clutched his face in surprise, a skewer handle poking out above his ear. He convulsed in a burrowing motion. Trickles of blood pooled into the dirt, and then Dede lay still.
Aimee collapsed and grabbed her gun from the dirt. She tried not to look at his face.
“I told you I’m afraid of heights.”
“YOU STILL LOOK LIKE you’ve been hit by a truck,” Rene said.
“Just got slammed into the back of one, like I told you,” Aimee said as she limped into her office.
Miles Davis scampered beside her and jumped onto Renews chair.
“Why don’t you recover at home?” Rene’asked.
“Work heals me,” she said, hanging her leather jacket on the hook. “What’s the EDF status?”
“Last night they talked about us doing a vulnerability scan of their software system,” he said, with a little smile. “Today they mentioned hardware.
Aimee looked up.
“Into his vineyard,” Rene shook his head. “Chateau de Frois-sart turned into a veritable money pit. His vines have root disease.”
No wonder he needed a lot of money.
“Time for my practice at the dojo,” Rene said. As he opened the door, he paused, concern on his face.
“Fine, partner,” she said.
“Someone’s here to see you,” Rene said.
Morbier walked into her office, hand in hand with the boy from the photograph in Samia’s apartment.
“Leduc, meet my grandson, Marc,” Morbier said.
Marc’s round black eyes shone in his honey-colored face when Miles Davis appeared.
